Executioner, Warrior of Light
by Soturi
Summary: Tudor England, 1533. When young and unusual Isabell-brought up like a hermit with hazy parentage- is summoned to Court by King Henry VIII, she is thrust into a new and complicated world, frightened and confused. And then Tuomas shows up...
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

_Prologue._

_England, 1517_

"Come on love, you've got it...push now..."

Rose, though already in considerable amounts of endless pain, stuck her chin to her sternum forcibly, holding her breath in her racking mission to send her unplanned, fatherless firstborn into the world.

She tugged at the bed sheets, her nightcap sticking to her forehead.

"Almost, darling," the midwife, Hannah, cooed, supporting the young girl's throbbing back as she struggled to breathe. She had been at it for hours.

Rose huffed and puffed, her pale cheeks beet red, but squeezed her muscles to guide her child out.

"The child crowns, Rose."

Rose felt her energy fading, but gave a final push, allowing the squealing baby the precious gift of life that was quickly becoming scarce to her. But she held on...for just a moment.

"Oh, Rose love!" Hannah praised, "A beautiful infant girl you've borne this night."

The young mother struggled to see, feeling her minutes numbered.

"Hannah! Bring her forth...so I might give my girl a name."

After quickly wrapping the healthy babe in cloth, the middle-aged woman presented her to Rose.

"Oh," she breathed, tears in her eyes. "This," she said, planting a kiss on the dark-haired and -eyed infant, "Is my Isabell."

And with a conclusive breath and a smile on her face, Rose passed into oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

Prologue

_Chapter 2._

_16 Years Later...1533_

Isabell chuckled warily as her stomach let out a growl, and rubbed it. She rolled over in the grass, and stood from the forest floor, smoothing her dress and re-adjusting her starched white cap. Humming, she gathered the wildflowers she'd picked, and wandered back home.

"Hannah!" she called when she entered the cottage she'd shared with her dear friend and elder. The girl placed her blossoms on the wooden table before searching for her.

The older woman was sitting upon her bed in an adjoining room, close to the open window. Her mending was in her tired hands.

"'Ello, love," she said, not looking up. Distractions plagued her body language.

Isabell sat down next to her immediately. She rested her head upon Hannah's soft shoulder.

"What is it?"

Hannah kissed the girl's forehead, setting down the sewing. "We shall talk about it later," she answered, standing, and leaving her.

Isabell frowned slightly, taking her cap off. Her curly black hair, a rarity in Tudor England, was clipped back, and she released it freely. She cocked her head to the side, gazing nostalgically out the open window at the green, untouched forest she loved so dearly.

Hannah did not speak at supper, and occasionally gave Isabell sorrowful glances. The teenager tried to ignore what was happening...but could not diminish her frights completely. She ate her bread with noticeable slowness. The candles flickered; the air was still. Like the skies before a great storm, evil loomed over Isabell's thoughts.

Running a comb through her hair repeatedly, Isabell's expression was one of stone. Hannah's shocking, listless behavior was so out of character. She could not pinpoint what had upset her so. Yawning mournfully, and tying her cap back on, she began to settle herself into bed...until Hannah finally appeared in her doorway, in her own bed clothes. Her thick, silver braid coiled around her neck. She walked into the dark room, and sat down at Isabell's bedside.

"Isabell," she began.

"Hannah!" the girl cried, half-interrupting. She threw her arms around her stand-in mother's waist. "Are you angry with me? What's plagued you?" She heard the woman sigh deep within her ribs.

"Sweet, I could never be angered by you," Hannah promised. "But I do need to speak with you." Isabell nodded.

"You know we are not like most, yes? That many people do not hide within the forest, and live together?"

Isabell felt blank.

"You know that...there is better in this world, beyond what I have been able to give?"

"Oh Hannah, there _can _be nothing better than what you have given me." Hannah stroked the girl's head, over her cap.

"But there is, dear girl," she pushed. "And you deserve better than a woodland cottage, hidden away."

Isabell's heart began to beat audibly.

"What do you speak of?"

Hannah embraced Isabell, hoping this would be amiable.

"The King," was all she started with. "One of his nobles saw you one day, whilst he was hunting."

"No," she whispered.

"He told the King of your beauty, and he has chosen you, among others...to be Lady in Waiting to the Lady Anne Boleyn herself."

Isabell rose to her feet in a flash, breathing roughly.

"At...court?" she asked angrily. Tears stung her black eyes.

"Isabell, you must understand. You will have a better life!"

"Well, would you come with me?" she asked desperately, knowing the answer. Hannah's silence made the girl fall to the floor, sobbing.


	3. Chapter 3

Prologue

_Chapter 3_

With an empty heart and a nervous mind, Isabell sat in a carriage. Two other girls, looking a bit older than she, spoke to one another lowly. Their clothes, though clean, were plain like Isabell's. These girls appeared to be in the hopes of building more promising lives for themselves at court.

Isabell's breath caught in her throat as King Henry's castle became visible to the eye. Undoubtedly, she thought of the atmosphere inside its cold, stone walls, and how there was no turning back now. This world was wrought with mysteries that she had no desire to solve. She longed for her forest, her Hannah...her home.

The ladies were all guided through several lavish corridors, with guards on every floor. Isabell was amazed, but kept her focus as the entire group were led into what she guessed were Anne Boleyn's chambers. Everyone in England whispered of her, branding her the whore that destroyed his marriage to their beloved Queen Katharine. These spindly negatives made Isabell nervous. She nearly tripped over her skirts when the party came to a halt outside the Lady's door.

"How now, who calls?"

Her voice was muffled behind the massive wood. "What dear ladies have you brought for me?"

One of the guards opened the door, revealing an opulantly decorative bed chamber. It was feminine, airy, and bright; every piece of furniture seemed to be adorned with drapery.

And there she stood. And she looked menacing in her forwardness.

Anne Boleyn waved her hands, making the girls line up in a way in which she could analyze them. Isabell's eyes were stuck to the floor as an unwanted heat spread over her face and neck. Anne's comments and observations were honest, to say the least. Isabell cringed when the bottom of her Mistress's gown became visible.

"Who is this maid, who hides?"

Isabell was afraid to speak, and felt fevrile when Anne lifted her chin with her index finger. Her eyes were gentler than she expected, and Anne was quite beautiful.

"Speechless, are we?" she retorted, pausing. "Ah, she shall not brood over it, for she is pretty enough. She reminds me of myself, with such dark hair, and eyes."

Feeling the entire room's eyes on her, the young girl looked down again. So did Anne, taking notice of her dress.

"My, but plain as stone. We will have to fix this."

"Tell me," Anne said, eyeing Isabell later that afternoon. She was sitting stilly on a sofa in her parlour. The King's Mistress had decided to speak briefly to each of her new ladies in waiting individually. "Where does such a shy one come from?"

"The forest," Isabell replied honestly. "I know no other place."

"Well, I assure you, court shall serve you well."

"I could...I can serve you in simpler ways, Madam, if it will please you," the girl muttered shyly. She wasn't entirely confident that she could last in the high court society. She would be much more comfortable performing menial chores, away in the shadows.

"Nonsense!" Anne spat. "You are lovely, and shall enter with me, and the others I have selected. You really have nothing to fear, my dear."

"I do not associate well with others, Madam."

"Surely you cannot be implying that you are hostile? I could hardly believe that."

Anne Boleyn was quite used to getting what she wanted.

"No, Madam, but I-"

"No, no." She kissed the girl's cheeks. "You will be summoned later, and I shall personally see that you and the others receive attire that will be appropriate for tonight's meal."

Overwhelmed, Isabell nodded. "As you wish, Madam."


	4. Chapter 4

Prologue

_Chapter 4_

_Beyond the Lady Anne's Walls..._

Hanging up his axe in the store room, Tuomas removed his heavy, black leather mask, placing it on its shelf carefully. He ran a hand through his wavy, dark brown hair, sighing.

He was prepared to leave for his home, running into the King on his way. Henry, strangely, had become fond of this quiet man, his demeanor void of all cunning, which was such a rarity in his court. Though Tuomas was technically a commoner in his occupation, King Henry often invited him to banquets, feasts, and celebrations. Upon seeing his sovereign lord, Tuomas bowed respectfully.

"Majesty," he said.

"Mr. Tuomas," Henry returned. "The day was well?"

"Yes, your Grace."

The king placed a friendly hand on the taller man's strong shoulder, smiling. His harshness waned around the gentle man. Tuomas grinned lightly back.

"I shall see you this evening..."

Tuomas nodded.

"Good. The Lady Anne has obtained some new ladies' maids. Keep a watchful eye...for I hear they are quite pretty."

"There we are," Anne praised, watching with interest at Isabell's red cheeks. The young girl fought tears while her ribs were smashed together by the unforgiving wooden ribs of her bodice. She had but sixteen years to her name, and her often liberated body felt terribly encased.

The three girls' transformation was dramatic in itself. Hair had been braided and knotted, faces had been powdered. Their dresses were pale blue, Anne's a stunning shade of deeper azure. Isabell tried to smile as they finished with her and the others, but focused more thoroughly on finding a mechanism for breathing.

"Ladies!" Anne called. "We go."

Anne Boleyn carried herself and her three new ladies she had chosen into the great dining hall of the palace. Isabell took careful steps, looking around at the other courtiers and nobles present, socializing. The young men nodded at them, the women curtsied. After people took notice of them all, the minstrels began to play. Ladies dispersed to find partners, and Isabell shuffled into a corner in the hall. A Pavan was begun, Galliards soon following.

Isabell felt crushed with so many people in one space. Her childhood had been spent loosely and openly, her relationship with the forest quiet and independent. Also, a presence surrounded her at that moment, in the form of eyesight. She knew someone was watching her inher distress.

"I cannot do this," she whispered.

Just at that second, a man's eyes, across the grand hall, caught her gaze in the dim candle light. They were sharp and tinted, misty and forgotten. They belonged to a mysterious man, clad in dark clothing and a surprisingly long mane of dark locks. She felt disturbed, and naked under his look, and shuffled deeper into the corner. This entire society was suffocating.

When Isabell found the courage in herself to stand and find one of the other ladies, she instantly noticed that the strange man was no longer in his place. It froze her for a minute, but was quickly left unsaid. She quickly made her way to the cluster of young girls, two being Kate and Louise, her fellow ladies-in-waiting.

"Isabell, isn't this all so lovely?" the brunette called Kate addressed her. She had beautiful dark green eyes, and a plain face.

She nodded quietly.

"To think," the one called Louise said, "We were commoners not two days ago...and now we are aids to Lady Anne Boleyn!" Her golden hair and honey-colored eyes shimmered.

"Ah, here they are," a voice called out, semi-loudly. Isabell's cheeks flushed when Henry, great king of England, appeared next to Anne, not terribly far from the girls. They all curtsied, and Isabell steered her glance toward the monarch. He eyed each of the newcomes quickly, before welcoming them and stepping away to converse elsewhere.

It was then that Isabell observed the Dark Man again, the King's new subject of attention. Much to her dismay, she began to feel her torsal muscles constraining. Seeing the stranger in greater light showed how mystifying he truly was, causing a slight irregularity in her planned breathing pattern. Somehow, he managed to catch one glimpse of Isabell, and saw her discomfort.

Tuomas saw the young, fragile creature in blue, surrounded by her companions in the candle-lit banquet hall. He saw her fine white hands, flattened suddenly against her lower abdomen, her cheeks becoming rosy red. He noted how she tried not to draw attention to herself, and how she tried to keep socializing, when in fact she was close to fainting.

"They _are_ pretty girls, your Majesty," he said, snapping himself back to reality. Henry patted his friend's shoulder.

"And untouched, I've heard!" the king whispered, departing from Tuomas. The Dark Man's hazy eyes loomed over Isabell's trembling form once more. Their eyes met.

Overwhelmed, and more embarrassed than ever before, Isabell's mouth became a tight line. It soon opened slightly though, and her eyes closed. She fell backwards. Tuomas instinctively reached out to her, but when he heard the sigh of the women, he quickly withdrew it, and backed up. From afar, he watched them get her out of there.


	5. Chapter 5

Prologue

_Chapter 5_

With a wild gasp of air, Isabell sat up in a lavish, comfortable single bed. A clean nightdress adorned her body, and she noted that her hair-previously knotted and braided with intricacy- tumbled over her shoulders. She rubbed her temples in mortification when she remembered how her first courtly evening had ended.

"Goodness me," she whispered.

"Goodness me is right," Isabell heard Louise say. She and Kate rushed to their new friend's bedside. Before long, another surprise graced Isabell's morning.

"I suppose that was your first time in a proper corset, Isabell?"

To everyone's utter bewilderment, Lady Anne had come to check up on the girl.

"Y-yes, my Lady."

Anne Boleyn corked her brow and sent Louise and Kate away. She moved to Isabell's bedside. Placing her index finger under her chin, Anne forced eye contact.

"Do you fear me, Isabell?" She shook her head fervently. Anne stroked her hair affectionately.

"Dear God, how old are you, child?"

"I am sixteen, my Lady."

Anne smiled.

"My! No wonder you have lost your wits a bit."

Feeling her Mistress's warmth, Isabell allowed a small grin to fill her face.

"Yes, Madam."

Before long, a lesser maid brought forth clothes. They were less extravagent than last night's but still lovely, and matched Kate's and Louise's.

"Well, Isabell...like I told you when you first arrived...you are quite safe here."

Anne seemed to float around the maidens' bed chamber, and sensuously touched the cream-coloured drapes in the window.

"Life in court can be most gratifying."

"Yes, Madam."

As instructed, Isabell then raised herself from the bed to be dressed. She did not feel so downtrodden today; the shocking kindness of her current acquaintances gave her hope.

"All right, ladies."

Kate, Louise, and Isabell folded their hands, and sat up straightly. All were fully dressed and combed, and listened to their brunette elder.

"I am most pleased with the conduct you all displayed last evening. Your etiquette is impressive, for not being of noble blood."

Kate and Louise exchanged fleety glances at the peppering offense in Anne's comment.

"As my ladies in waiting, you shall reside here, in shared chambers."

Isabell looked intently at Anne. She no longer possessed as many shaky fears of her new surroundings, and her mistress seemed to like her. Soon, a priest arrived with a large Bible. Each of the three girls promised their loyalty, modesty, and submission as Anne's new ladies' maids before it, and Anne spoke once more.

"You shall go every place I do...dances, meals, or even when I shall depart from the palace. It is rare that I do not have at least one of you with me."

She took a short pause, before bridging to her conclusion.

"You shall be my companions, and must express secrecy to all I do, and all you see or hear others do with me. There is far too much gossip in this court, and I want none of it to involve you."

A smile broke her flawless face.

"If I am occupied for some incalculable reason, and I am alone, you are permitted freedom among the fellow courtiers and gentlemen...of course, maintaining virtuous and modest values of ladyship."


End file.
